Red, Red Shoes
by swatkat
Summary: I want those shoes, the Witch said, and that was that. Wicked bookverse, GlindaElphaba.


This would've been here earlier, but I had forgotten. GlindaElphaba. (**A/N: **Now with added linebreaks! Many, many thanks to **swordsrock **for her thoughtful comment, and for pointing this out to me. facepalm)

**Red, Red Shoes**

The proprietor of the Magnificent Shoe Emporium could scarcely believe his good fortune.

Lady Glinda Chuffrey was a well-known (and well-loved) figure among the shop owners of Shiz. To have her visit his humble store (he did, of course, sell the best footwear in Shiz) was great fortune indeed. The prestige! Not to mention the monetary benefits – her taste and generosity was near legend. He hurried to greet the lady – this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

She was every bit as enchanting as she was said to be, he thought as Lady Glinda flitted through the premises, inspecting the stock with obvious delight, pausing occasionally to check her own appearance in the glass.

'Stop being so clumsy, you fool,' he hissed at the idiot minion fumbling with the straps of the shoes he was supposed to _help_ the lady with. She giggled at that (how charming, he thought), and then stiffened, abruptly, as something seemed to catch her eye.

'Those shoes – '

'Yes, my lady?' He hurried forward, trying to work out which pair she meant.

'The red ones.'

Ah. Of course. She did have taste. He was rather proud of that particular line – imported all the way from Emerald City, and truly breathtaking in their beauty. Not to mention expensive, which was a quality he approved of in shoes.

'They are in imitation of the shoes worn by Dorothy of Kansas, when she rid the world of the Wicked Witch of the West – a very popular line, my lady, a perfect replication! Would you like to try them on?'

But Lady Glinda was merely staring, suddenly looking very pale.

-

Elphie wanted those shoes.

Oh, she hid it well, declaring in her usual heedless manner that she couldn't care less about such silly fripperies and that she didn't need them anyway. And she was only as gruff as her normal self, curled – no, angled – on her bed with yet another dusty tome. Quieter, perhaps; less forthcoming with the barbs – although, Elphie _did_ have her quiet spells.

But Glinda remembered her song; remembered her face and the yearning in her voice, her embarrassment afterwards as she drew that hideous cloak around herself once more.

It seemed inconceivable that Elphaba could actually want something so frivolous. Elphaba wanted justice and equality and Animal Rights, not mundane things like a pair of shoes, pretty as they were. It was, Glinda thought, brushing her curls with vengeance, somewhat unreasonable of her father to send a present only for Nessarose, but she never did expect Elphie to be so upset over it.

Here was fresh mystery.

Maybe, now that they were friends, she would ask Elphie about it.

-

Frexspar the Godly lay in his deathbed, murmuring Nessarose's name like prayer. He whispered Melena's name in his sleep, and Turtle Heart the Quadling glass blower. He would awake at times to smile at Shell, only to drift back into his own private world after a while. And sometimes, sometimes he spoke of teeth, of all things; of sharp teeth and broken wings and other things Shell never could comprehend.

He did not try. Frexspar, Godly though he was once called in Munchkinland, was all too human and fading, fading fast, and Shell was content to let him rest.

He never mentioned a pair of shoes.

-

Dorothy was horrified. She had never meant to kill the Witch's sister and she had only meant to save the Witch from the fire, and oh, how was she to know? And now Glinda was here, and it was _all her fault_ in the first place, giving her those wretched shoes! As if she cared! All Dorothy wanted was to go home!

'What did the Witch say?'

'She said she wanted the shoes. And I _wanted_ to give it to her, I _wanted_ to, but they wouldn't open because you had magicked them –'

'Shoes?' said the handsome man who was the Witch's brother, 'Nessie's shoes?'

'Yes. She _gave_ them to me, and believe me, I don't want them, I would've given them to your sister if only I could take them _off_,' said Dorothy, bursting into tears for the third time that day. How could she possibly apologise to him?

Oh, how she longed to go home!

-

They were friends now. _Close_ friends, closer than Glinda had ever been to Misses Pfanee and Shenshen, and wasn't _that_ a surprise? Still, they were friends, and Glinda was glad.

They chatted, often, because Elphaba was a great talker once you got her started, and Glinda found herself getting used to her arch, taunting manner; growing to love it, even, although she would not admit it if you asked her about it. They chatted, often, about everything under the sun, and yet Glinda could not bring herself to mention the shoes. The only thing Elphie would not talk about was herself, and Glinda didn't dare push, didn't dare disturb their new-found truce.

It was all Elphie's fault, really, for being so damned difficult.

Thinking was something Galinda had seldom indulged in, and now that Glinda let herself do it more often, she found that questions had a way of bringing up even more questions, without acceptable answers to them all. It was maddening; perhaps as maddening as Elphie herself.

Perhaps it was not the shoes that she wanted. Perhaps it was something else.

-

'I want those _shoes_,' the Witch said, and that was that.

-

'They're awfully pretty,' said the Scarecrow.

'Aren't they just?' Dorothy said, feeling rather pleased.

They were on their way to the Emerald City (wherever that was), following the Yellow Brick Road as they had been told to do, and now they were resting by the roadside, admiring Dorothy's new shoes. They _were_ very pretty. She had never seen anything like them in Kansas.

'But they're magic,' said the Lion. 'Do you think you should wear them?'

'Do you think I shouldn't?' said Dorothy, worried. 'I mean, we don't have anything like this back home. Auntie Em always told me that I shouldn't take gifts from a stranger, but the witch wanted me to take it, and anyway I don't _have_ anything else to wear – '

'I don't know. I'm scared,' said the Lion. His tail twitched nervously from one side to another.

'Oh, you're scared of everything,' said the Tin Man, shooting a disgusted look at the Lion.

'I think they're really pretty,' said the Scarecrow again, loyally.

-

It seemed like the perfect moment. Nessie and Nanny had _finally_ retired, and now Elphaba had lit a candle and immersed herself in some dusty, ancient volume. Again.

All she had to do was ask.

'Oh, do stop reading, Elphie. I'm bored,' Glinda announced, planting herself beside Elphaba on her bed.

'And how am I supposed to entertain you?' Elphaba did not look up from her book, but she did shift herself a bit to make space for Glinda on the bed.

'I don't know,' said Glinda, settling down comfortably. It had been a chilly day, but Elphaba's bed was warm. 'Tell me a story. About your childhood. How did you meet Boq?'

'You know that already.'

'Well, what was he like?' Glinda persisted.

Now Elphaba did look up from her book. 'Have you finally fallen for his charms, then?' she said, arching an eyebrow. 'Do I have to play mediator now?'

'The idea!' said Glinda, outraged. 'I'm merely curious, that's all.'

'No, it's charming, really –

'Elphie!' Glinda cried. Elphaba smirked and returned to her book, infuriating creature that she was.

Tell me about those shoes, Glinda thought, and said, 'What are boys like in Quadling country? Ruggedly handsome, or just plain uncouth?'

It was Elphaba's turn to glare now. From her vantage position, Glinda could see the way Elphaba's lips turned when she scowled; the tiny furrow on her brow and Glinda thought, not for the first time, about how beautiful Elphaba really was.

She said so much in words. Elphaba scowled even harder: lips tightening, jaw clenching, candlelight and shadows on her face, and Glinda had to catch her breath. It would be easy, so easy, Glinda thought, to draw a little closer, and press Elphaba's lips against her own.

'What was that?' Elphaba said, after Glinda released her.

'I thought that would be obvious,' Glinda said, suddenly annoyed. Elphaba was looking slightly dazed, and Glinda realised that she was no longer nervous.

It was not until much later, when she was exhausted and falling asleep, did she discover that she had forgotten entirely about the shoes.

-

Now that Dorothy was feeling calmer, she was also beginning to wish she hadn't raged so earlier. The Witch's brother had left, and now she was all alone with Glinda. Who was, after all, a witch, and a very powerful one at that.

Glinda, thankfully, was not paying much attention to her. She was pacing the room, lost in her own thoughts. If it was anyone else, Dorothy might have said she was looking a bit teary, but this was Glinda after all.

'Er. Will you have them back now?' she asked, timidly, not knowing what else to say.

'Keep them. I gave them to you,' said Glinda, her voice calm. She did not _sound_ very angry with her, Dorothy thought, feeling slightly relieved.

'You should be able to open them now.' she continued, pausing near the open window to gaze outside. A sudden gust of cold wind rushed into the room. Dorothy shivered. 'The magic is gone.'

-

'My lady… ' The proprietor was truly baffled. He did not understand. 'Is anything the matter?'

'It's nothing,' Lady Glinda replied with a wan smile, although it was clear that it was not. Her smile had disappeared, and now she seemed entirely different: distant, and perhaps a little lost.

'Would you like to see something else?' He ventured.

'No, I'm not feeling particularly well – some other day.' She did not raise her voice, but it was a tone that allowed little questioning. She rose to leave, nodding absently at the attendants who saw her out. The proprietor stood foolishly in the middle of the store, shoe in hand.

It was a beautiful pair - imported all the way from Emerald City, and truly breathtaking in their beauty. Not to mention expensive, which was a quality he approved of in shoes.

Whims of rich people, he thought sourly. The shoe glittered red-gold in the sun.


End file.
